Frank Merriwell's Catch — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

10> TIP ‘COP WEEKLY. who had recovered in a remarkable man- ner. ‘‘He is the greatest athlete in Yale College, if what the papers say about him is true.” ‘‘T ain’t going to fool with him,’’ de- clared Bunker, advancing a step and half- lifting the club. ‘‘Pay for those guns, Mr. Frank Merriwell, or I'l] thump the life out of you!” Frank stood his ground, looking the man straight in the eyes; but Hodge re- treated to the canoe, the prow of which had been drawn up on the sand. “Keep back!"? commanded Merriwell. ‘We are not going to fool with you any longer.” *‘And Iam not going t to fool with you, either!” ““Vou have tried to fill us with shot and break out heads this morning. That you have received the worst of it so far is simple retribution. Welch would have drowned if I hadn’t saved him, for you made no move to help him. You owe me something for that.?’ : “Bah! You saved him because you were afraid.’’ “Of what?” “That, if he died, you would be held. responsible. It was cowardice not brav- ery, that led you to get him out of the water.’ ‘You are at liberty to think that, if you like; it makes no difference to me”? **t know it.”’ “Allright. I pulled him out, just the same, and we pumped the water out of him after getting him ashore. You were not on hand to help, and he would be dead past resuscitation at this moment aad he depended on you.” Bunker advanced another step. “‘Tt makes no difference,’’ he grated; “you'll pay for the guns, just the same —and for the oars, too. I want twenty dollars for my gun, and Jim’s was worth PRIZE CONTESTS FORM A PERMANENT FEATURE IN TH HALF-HOLIDAY. fifteen. The oars bring it up to—well, you can cough up fifty dollars, and we'll call it square.”’ | “How kind!’? laughed Merriwell. ‘‘My dear sir, we could not think of ac- commodating you.”? ‘‘Vou'll have to, or [ll crack your ' skull sure this time!’ Now the club was flourished threaten- ingly, and the face of the man showed he really meant it. Frank grew grave, but did not take his eyes from the ruffian. “Took here, Mr. Bunker,’’ he said, swiftly, ‘‘you are getting yourself into a bad serape. If you don’t drop it, Pl] take the trouble to swear out a warrant for you at the earliest opportunity and place an officer on your track. It will not be difficult to put you behind iron bars.’ “Bah! again cried the man. ‘'You can’t save yourself that way. Cough up.”? ‘“Not a cent!” “Then you get it!”? ‘‘Come on!” Frank fell into a defensive attitude, and Bunker swung the club aloft, start- ing to make a spring. “Stop! #39 The word rang out like a shot. It came from the lips of Bart Hodge, who was standing just behind Frank, having picked a small rifle out of the canoe. The weapon was at Bart’s shoulder, and its muzzle covered Bunker. ‘‘StopP* repeated Hodge. ‘‘If you make another move, Pll send a twenty- two into your head! It won’t makea large hole, but it will do some damage, even to a wooden-head, like yours.’ Bunker halted, for he saw that Hodge was in deadly earnest, and the rifle, small though it was, was not exactly pleasant to look upon just then. **You fool!’? panted the man. wouldn’t dare!” *“Oh, yes, I would!"* grated Hodge. “Vou COMIECLOO® SS (C(O) nn